


You And I

by Kiwific



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Boy!Pearl, Cis Lesbians, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Katya/Violet coming, Lesbian Sex, Lesbians, Violet is a mom, bisexual trixie, lesbian katya, nineties nostalgia, vatya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-07-29 21:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16273154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwific/pseuds/Kiwific
Summary: It's been a long time since I came aroundBeen a long time but I'm back in townAnd this time I'm not leaving without you..Trixie and Katya were best friends for six long years. Growing up, summers spent at her aunt's in Trixie's small Tennessee hometown were the high points of Katya's year. After her parents split and those holidays stopped, they lost touch for a while, their lives both unfolding in different ways. Now, after a messy breakup and an unexpected gift of a certain farmhouse, Katya finds herself living in the last place she would have expected. Everything is the same, yet so, so different. Not only because of her sudden crush on a certain blonde musician...but that definitely doesn't help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, it's your local delusional flightless bird/piece of fuzzy fruit here. I can't believe I'm finally getting around to uploading some of this. It's been an absolute mess of words and ideas on my computer for months now. The idea from this came from a mixture of listening to 'Little Sister" off Trixie's album far too many times, mixed with my own feelings of living in a small rural town. I'm pretty sure at least part of it came to me in a dream. Any-who, this is still a WIP. I have a few chapters edited into a semblance of a story and the rest just kind of lives in my head until I find the motivation to actually write it down. Cool? Cool. Enjoy, comment, like, abuse me, whatever floats your boat. 
> 
> Notes: Katya is 26, Trixie is 25. 
> 
> Bronte (Trixie's town) is named after Charlotte Bronte. Because I'm a literary nerd. Bronte is in no way a real place, I'm not even American so feel free to point out any glaring errors in that respect.

_Dear Trixie_

_I hope it isn’t too weird that I’m writing to you like this after all this time. I know - Facebook is a thing that exists, and a much faster way of communicating, right? I unashamedly stalked your page and it looks to me like your parents still live in the same house you grew up in, so I’m assuming this will get to you somehow. Hell, you live in Bronte - the postman has probably known you since you were two, has kids that went to middle school with you, and knows exactly where you are at any given time._

 

_Anywho, the reason I’m writing is that, well, I found our old letters when I was packing up my apartment and wanted to tell you this the old-fashioned way. I know it’s been a while since we talked, but you’re going to want to hear this…_

 

_I’m moving to Bronte!_

 

_I can hear your disbelief from here, and seriously, I know. What the actual fuck, Katya, right? Believe me, I’ve been asking myself that question enough when it comes to understanding the decision on a philosophical level, so let me just give you the facts:_

 

 

  * _When Aunt Stevie died, she left her house to me and Anya. Annie moved to Russia last year and couldn’t give a flying fuck what happens to the place, so I guess it’s mostly mine._


  * _I’m a college graduate and a free house is definitely something that makes my future look much less ugly (loans are painful and I want to eat something other than ramen before I’m thirty)._


  * _Recent developments in my life have made me want to get far, far away from New York, and what could be further than Bronte?_



 

 

_Anyway, I’ll be there mid June! I’d love to catch up if you’re around and reminisce on old times… like the time we made toffee “apples” for the town fair, except they were really onions. And the time I made your friend cry when she wanted to be Baby Spice for that concert we put on fat your church (you were the best Baby Spice ever, by the way). I can already smell that sweet nineties nostalgia._

 

_Please message me when you get this, I don’t expect you to write back, plus I might be out of this apartment by then. The sooner the better, in my honest opinion._

 

_See you soon!_

 

_Katya_

 

_P.S. Fact number 5 - I miss you._

  


**June**

  


Katya could feel the dust in the air before she even stepped out of the car. She stretched her jean-clad legs out in front of her, feeling the heat heavy in the air as she stood up. Placing her hands at the small of her back, she groaned, feeling the effects of her two-day drive seep into her bones. Looking around, Katya (not for the first time ) questioned the wisdom of her decision to relocate to a southern state in the middle of a scorching summer. The whole plan was absolute insanity - who would have ever thought in a hundred years that she would move to Tennessee. This wasn’t the first time she’d had second, third, or even fourth thoughts about the move, and looking around at the picturesque town around her did very little to ease her nerves.

 

How the fuck did she end up back here?

 

 _Logically_ , the plan made sense. She had free accommodation here - a house that, beyond all belief, was hers alone. She would have time to write, time to sort her shit out. Time to stop moping over Rachel and get her head back in a healthy space. That, or she would slowly go insane with boredom. Or forced out of town by dyke-hating, pitchfork-wielding townsfolk. Too far?

 

Above her, the gas station sign leered down.

 

**Bronte, Tennessee. Last gas stop for 20 miles!**

 

Katya snorted to herself. Last anything for thirty miles, more like.

 

Filling up her ancient, cherry-red BMW, Katya peered down the main street. It had been approximately eleven years since she’d last been here.  Growing up, her aunt Stevie had an old farmhouse just out of town. They would fly (sometimes drive, to Katya and Anya’s mutual horror) and stay for weeks in the summer, Katya and her sister spending the long, hot days playing in the fields, climbing trees and swimming in the river.

 

Katya barely remembered the town itself, but a few things stood out: the general store with its array of mismatched soda signs, the diner with the hideous pale pink facade (still faded and chipped after all this time), and the water tower looming over the long line of shops. It had been years, but to Katya it looked like nothing had changed. She felt her cynicism draining away as she looked around, fond memories of her childhood drowning out the panicked voice in her head telling her this move was a mistake.

 

They had stopped coming here when Katya’s dad walked out - a disappearing act to rival any world-famous magician- and while Stevie tried to keep in touch, it got too hard for Katya’s mom to stay close to her ex-husband’s family. Stevie had always sent birthday cards, though. Right up until the year she got sick. Katya’s mom didn’t know what killed her, but no one was more surprised than Katya herself when a lawyer showed up at her apartment in New York with the news that Stevie’s three-bedroom farmhouse in hicksville had been left to Katya and Anya. Anya wasn’t extremely interested in the news, she was enjoying her new life in Russia with mom’s family. Katya didn’t think she cared either, maybe one day they could sell the house and use the money for their own city apartments…

 

Until the shitstorm happened with Rachel.

 

She had been utterly blindsided when Rachel walked out, she had to admit that. One minute, Rachel was moving in with her and Katya was thinking about their happy future together. The next, Rachel was packing, leaving a broken Katya alone on their bedroom floor as she walked out. Katya should have seen it coming, and the fact that she didn’t was one of the things that had hurt so much.

 

The petrol pump stopped and Katya shook her head, trying to clear her suddenly foggy thoughts. Enough of that. She was away from Rachel and from New York. As far away as she felt she could possibly get. This wasn’t some bullshit _heartbroken woman moves to the country to find herself after a breakup_ saga, this was just her… getting away from everything in the city that would sabotage her. Getting away from the version of herself that she was spiraling back into before making the decision to move here. Saving some cash in the process too, because hey - free accommodation would do a wonder on her savings.

 

Moving her car to one of the parks at the front of the station, Katya decided to take a walk and visit some old haunts. She had planned to head to the house first and come back into town when she’d settled in a little, but something was gnawing at the back of her mind. Someone, rather.

 

Trixie.

 

When Katya had written to her friend, she’d been a little overwhelmed at the excited reply. Trixie had messaged her the minute she received the letter announcing her move, and for a while there her excitement was contagious. Katya couldn’t help but feel a knot of anxiety when it came to seeing Trixie in the flesh again, though. What if it was awkward? What if they didn’t know how to talk to each other anymore? What if they had both changed too much?

 

Trixie had been Katya’s best friend for the better part of six years, despite the fact that they only ever saw each other in the summer. They had met one scalding hot day down by the river at the back of Stevie’s property - Katya and Annie went there everyday to cool down, and Trixie and her brother were swimming with their dad. A precocious eight year old Katya had snobbishly told seven year old Trixie that it was her auntie’s river and that her Barbie swimsuit was gross and too pink. Trixie had pushed her in the river.

 

They were best friends from that day on. Every summer, Katya counted down the days to their trip to Bronte, marking the days off in her diary (black, with a wolf howling at the moon on it. She had been a weird kid). They swam, played in the fields, terrorized the locals of Bronte year after year. They told each other everything, sharing their deepest secrets, navigating the joys and disappointments of growing up. When they weren’t together, they wrote to each other. Almost every week, Katya would get a letter on brightly colored Lisa Frank stationary, Trixie’s neat handwriting filling the pages. Her own letters were scrawled back as fast as she could write them, words falling from her as she tried to fit her thoughts onto the small pages. When Katya’s parents started fighting, Trixie was the first person to know. When Trixie got her first period, Katya had been the person she had written to.

 

When Katya’s dad left, she’d written a letter to Trixie that had to be at least seven pages long. She had been so angry, so scared, so worried about what to to when her mom barely came out of her room. Trixie told her everything would be okay, and it was. Eventually, it was. The next summer, however, had confirmed Katya’s growing suspicions. They didn’t go back to Bronte.

 

She and Trixie had kept up their friendship through letters and occasional phone calls, but these tapered off over time. New friendships came along, more for Trixie than for Katya, but eventually the letters stopped all together. Katya thought of her sometimes when looking at the photos in her mom’s old albums - her favourite was one of the two of them passed out on a mattress in the back of a pickup truck after a party at Stevie’s place, straw in Trixie’s thick hair and a blanket covering the two of them.

 

A few years ago, Trixie had sought her out on Facebook and they had talked occasionally, reminiscing about old times. Katya didn’t realize until she shamelessly stalked Trixie’s profile how much she had genuinely missed the other girl, and she’d been startled to realize she was crying after finding the same picture of them in the truck in an album Trixie had labelled ‘Old times’.

 

Katya couldn’t help but steel herself for disappointment as she prepared for the move to Bronte. She logically knew that things couldn’t be like they used to be - there was no way they could just pick up where they left off and be as close as they had been, and that was fine. They had been kids. Trixie had her life her, her friends, she probably didn’t need Katya hanging around all the time. Katya wanted to try, though, she wanted to give their friendship a second shot.

 

In truth, a friend was what she desperately needed right now.


	2. I wanna be inside your heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though Katya's too much of a pussy to visit Trixie at work, fate intervenes. The girls see each other again after years apart, and things seem to be going ok. Except for one world-altering fact. Trixie is possibly the most gorgeous woman Katya's ever seen. 
> 
> She's not sure, but she thinks she might be royally fucked.

 

Setting off down the main street of Bronte, her hands in her pockets, Katya had to marvel at how quiet it was. Sure, it was a Sunday and most people would be sweltering in their air-conditioned houses, but there was barely anyone around. On one side of the street, a little girl sat outside the general store with an Ice cream, a dog on a leash tied to her chair. On the other, a door jingled as someone left an antique shop carrying a hideous vase.

 

Katya closed her eyes and basked in the heat, taking a deep breath. Maybe this move wasn’t such a bad idea.

 

She knew Trixie worked in town, at a cafe Katya remembered as being an old converted diner. Now it was called Charlotte’s - a hideous connection to the town’s name that made Katya’s literature qualifications wince in pain - and was apparently Bronte’s answer to the apparent need for adorable hipster coffee shops in every town across America. Trixie had said to pop in when she got a chance, or give her a call when she wanted to meet up. Katya didn’t know why the thought made her nervous. Something about the idea of just walking into the cafe - which she could very clearly see further down the street - made her palms sweat.

 

Instead, she bought a packet of cigarettes from the corner store. Leaning on the brick wall outside, she lit a smoke, the heat travelling down to her lungs. She’d run out of cigarettes about twenty miles before arriving in Bronte, and she felt her body immediately relax with the long drag.    

 

“That shit’ll kill you, ya know” - a woman’s voice drawled, startling her out of her thoughts. Katya turned to meet achingly familiar brown eyes and a huge smile. A smile half formed on her face before a sudden lightning bolt shot through her chest at the sight of the woman she had missed so much without fully realizing it.

 

“Holy shit, _Trixie_?”

 

Katya’s lips broke into a full smile as she was pulled into a tight hug. For a second, she felt her breath leave her. She closed her eyes as she held Trixie just as tight as the other woman was hugging her, silently wondering if she could ever let her go. Trixie’s hair tickled her nose, her flowery perfume surrounding Katya. She smelled amazing, and Katya wanted to bury her face in her shoulder and never leave. Somehow she pulled back, taking in the sight of her friend and forcing herself not to stare for as long as she wanted to.

 

Stalking Trixie on Facebook had in no way prepared her for the reality of this woman.

 

Trixie was absolutely _gorgeous_. Her thick blonde hair, which she'd kept reasonably short as a kid, now fell in long waves over her shoulders. Her big brown eyes were shining as she looked at Katya, her makeup simple and light enough to show the freckles dotted lightly across her nose and cheeks. Her clothes were simple - washed denim shorts and a tight, pink v-necked shirt, but they hugged her curves in a way that was making Katya’s mind go into gay panic.

 

Katya smiled back, running a hand through her choppy hair and trying to think of something witty to say. She failed, just going in for another hug.

 

“God, Trix,” she said into the other woman’s neck. “It’s seriously been way too long,”

 

Trixie laughed into her shoulder and squeezed.

 

“That’s the understatement of the century,” she replied, pulling back to look Katya over. “Well look at you, Zamolodchikova. Are you sure the ladies of New York were ready to let you go?”

 

Katya snorted. _If the ladies of Bronte are anywhere near as beautiful as you, I’m in deep trouble._

 

She pushed the thought down, cursing her demanding sapphic tendencies and replying to Trixie’s question before the other woman thought she was mentally challenged.

 

“Firstly, you’re still one of the only people on the planet who pronounces my last name correctly,” she said with a wide grin, “And secondly - the ladies of New York are half the reason I’m here,” she shrugged, taking a drag of her cigarette and letting out a long exhale. “One lady, in particular.”

 

Trixie nodded to the metal table a few feet away, and they sat down. Katya placed her cigarettes and keys on the table, crossing her legs as she tapped her smoke over the ashtray. Eyeing her from across the table, Trixie gave her a knowing look.

 

“The ‘recent developments’ you were talking about in your letter, I presume?”

 

Katya grinned, it was nice to hear that Trixie remembered the details of her letter.

 

“Yeah,” she replied, getting herself ready to repeat the same story most people knew about her breakup. The whole ‘ _oh, it just wasn’t working out between us. We were too different’_ spiel that she could rattle off in her sleep.

 

“She cheated on me,” was what came out.

 

The admission surprised Katya. She had been sitting here with Trixie for what - all of five minutes? Sure, they had been inseparable once upon a time, but now Katya was sitting here with Trixie across from her… and in a way it was like they had picked up right where they left off. She still felt like she could tell this girl anything. It felt good to tell her the truth - something she hadn’t been doing much when it came to her breakup.

 

Trixie’s eyes were unreadable in that moment, and Katya wondered if she was having similar thoughts. Reaching across the table, Trixie took her hand. Her skin was impossibly soft and warm, her nails painted pastel pink.

 

“That’s bullshit,” she said, her soft tone contrasting with the harsh word. “You don’t deserve that.”

 

Katya shrugged.

 

“It’s been a while, I’m mostly over it,” she said. It was true, to a point. For a while there, she had felt herself spiraling. The move, however, seemed to have pulled her out of her funk, and given her something to work towards. Walking in on your girlfriend of three years being nailed by her supervisor in her office took its toll though, and Katya still didn’t know the true extent of the damage Rachel had caused her.

 

She squeezed Trixie’s hand before letting go, stubbing out what was left of her cigarette.

 

“It was a guy she worked with,” she continued, voice flat as she tried not to relive the scene that was burned into her brain. “A guy, can you believe that? The whole thing was fucking horrible, I won’t pretend it wasn’t. We had the fight to end all fights, and then she was gone. A few weeks later I found myself thinking about this place and how coming here was always the best part of my year as a kid. Now here I am - trying something new and moving into a house I desperately hoped was haunted as a child.”  
  
Trixie laughed.

 

“You’re still super weird, that’s good to see at least.”

 

Katya couldn't keep herself from smiling. She’d always been able to make Trixie laugh - it had been one of her favourite things to do. It was nice to know she still had the touch.

 

For a good half an hour they just talked, easily falling into old rhythms. They knew snippets of each others lives thanks to social media, but it was great to be able to fill in the gaps. Katya told Trixie about her job - editing for online journals and papers, plus whatever work she could get as a translator. It wasn't as stimulating as she had hoped at this stage of her life, but it paid the bills. Now she had a free place to live, Katya was seriously thinking about getting some of her own stuff published. Trixie was still working on her music - playing guitar at local gigs and teaching kids from the local schools - an idea that Katya found almost unbearably wholesome and adorable. She vaguely found herself wondering if Trixie was seeing anyone, then hated herself a little bit for feeling relieved when Trixie made a self-deprecating joke about being terminally single.

 

 _‘Childhood best friend’,_ She reminded herself. ‘ _Childhood best friend who doesn’t need your messed up, Super-Lesbian self ruining her life with your fucked up issues_.’

 

Besides, she was at least ninety-nine point nine percent sure Trixie was straight. She’d seen pictures of old boyfriends, and part of her hoped that if that wasn’t the case, Trixie would have said something to her by now. After all, Trixie had been the first person Katya had come out to when she was a baby lesbian working herself out. She remembered writing that letter like it was yesterday.

 

Katya was a little bit surprised to hear that Trixie had decided to stay in Bronte after high school. As a kid she had always had so many dreams - travel, fame, moving somewhere far away from this small town. On the upside, Trixie knew everything to know about everyone in Bronte, regaling Katya with stories that had them snorting and giggling like old times. She had developed a surprisingly dark sense of humor, and Katya found herself snickering to herself at Trixie’s impressions of people or dry way of explaining things. She was witty, smart, and somehow sweet at the same time. Despite how close they once were, Katya couldn't quite figure her out. She _wanted_ to, very badly.

 

When the sun was getting dangerously low in the sky, Katya stretched. She didn’t want to stop talking to Trixie, but she also didn’t rate her chances of finding the farmhouse in the dark.

 

“I should probably head off,” she said with a regretful look, stubbing out her final cigarette.

 

Trixie stood with a laugh, looking around them.

 

“Wow, where did the time go?” she asked as she realised how late it was getting. “I’m sorry, I’ve been talking your ear off. I should head back to work anyway, I’m supposed to be helping Irene with stock-take. She’s a great cook, but she can’t find her way around any computer made after nineteen-ninety-seven.”

 

Katya grinned.

 

“It’s been amazing to catch up,” she said simply, sliding her cigarettes into the back pocket of her jeans. Standing, she pulled Trixie into a last hug before pulling back to look at her.

 

“I missed you a lot, Trix,” she said softly. Trixie smiled at her again, eyes wide and shining, and Katya couldn’t do a damn thing about the sudden flip flop in her belly.

 

“I missed you so much, Kat,” Trixie said back. “I’m glad you’re back,”

 

Katya lit up a final cigarette, watching Trixie walk away and giving her a small wave when she looked back and smiled. Katya’s eyes drifted to the blonde’s shapely form before she could stop herself, and she chewed on her lip.

 

“Well, fuck.” she said softly to herself, taking a deep drag. Shaking her head, she headed back to the car.

 

*

 

The sun had almost set by the time Katya drove down a long, slightly familiar country road. The sky was dappled hues of pink, orange and blue, the beauty of the southern sunset both impressing Katya, and instilling her with a slight sense of despair. She was so far from home - be it Boston or New York. Steeling herself, Katya made a turn down a long drive, open fields on each side and a large house in view.

 

Her new home.

 

The moving van had already been and gone, dropping off what few possessions Katya had decided to bring with her. It wasn't much - whatever furniture she actually needed, a few personal things that she'd felt a sentimental connection to. Not much at all, considering how much she had owned before she left New York. After the breakup an impressive amount of her things had gone to Goodwill, anyway. Too many of her possessions reminded her of Rachel.

 

Katya took in the house as she slowly drove up the gravel driveway. It looked the same as she remembered it - as close to her patchy memories as it could be anyway. White, two-storey, a covered deck wrapping around the front and left side of the house. The paint had faded since she was last here, she noticed, and the flowers that always grew around the bottom of the deck had been replaced by weeds.

 

Katya swallowed down a sudden ball of emotion. She had spent some of the best weeks of her life here, and seeing it again brought up a mix of memories and repressed feelings. This was the last place her parents had really been happy before the divorce, the last place she had felt like she had a functional family unit. Stevie would read stories to her and Annie as they all sat out on the deck, the kids drinking sweet tea or soda, the adults getting tipsy on the same tea spiked with a splash of Jack Daniels.

She sat in the car for a good fifteen minutes before she got the courage to step out.

 

*

 

The door squeaked as it swung open, and Katya fumbled for the light switch. Considering how long the house had been unoccupied, Katya was surprised to see it was in relatively good shape. The odd cobweb here and there, a thin layer of dust settling over window sills and mantle… all in all it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as she expected it to be.

 

Hauling the rest of her things out of the car, Katya set about doing a quick clean. Thankfully the moving guys had followed her instructions to the letter regarding where things went, and she didn’t have to worry about getting her furniture up to the bedrooms.

 

She had to admit, it was strange seeing her things in the master bedroom that had always been full of Stevie’s things. Her aunt had been… the best way of describing it was a retired hippie. This room had always been full of tie-dyed wall hangings, drapey fabrics, clothes that smelled of lavender or Jasmine (and as Katya learned when she was thirteen - weed). Stevie had kept to herself, using the land around the farmhouse to keep horses and grow walnut trees. When Katya was little some of the local kids had asked her if Aunt Stevie was a witch. Katya had immediately said yes, making Trixie shriek with laughter.

 

Katya caught sight of herself in a mirror propped up on a set of drawers. Grinning at her reflection - hair a mess from the humidity, red lipstick still holding strong - Katya cocked her head. Maybe it was time for her to be the crazy witch in the farmhouse.

 

Unpacking as much as she could bring herself to after a long day of driving, Katya found the box with her bedding and towels. Making up her bed with crisp white sheets and a deep red comforter she knew would be thrown off in the night heat, she headed into the bathroom.

 

She was sore and sweaty, and the stale, humid air was doing nothing to help.

 

Tuning the taps, Katya let out a low moan as the lukewarm water hit her aching muscles. She was completely exhausted. The day had been emotionally tiring as well as physically, and she wanted nothing more than to switch her brain off, shower and crawl into bed. Instead, she found her mind wandering to a certain blonde.

 

Katya had dreamed up multiple disaster scenarios when it came to this move.

 

An intense, instantaneous attraction to her former best friend had not been one of them.

 

Just thinking about the time she’d spent with Trixie that day made her breathless. Since the shit show that was her breakup, Katya hadn’t had any desire to date or even go looking for casual sex. She had been starting to wonder if she would ever feel like that about someone again. While it was a slight relief to realize she wasn’t broken beyond repair, the circumstances could be _far_ better. Trixie was most likely never going to reciprocate any feelings Katya might have. They had just found each other again after years of separation.

 

The last thing Katya needed to do was fuck up what was probably the best friendship she was ever going to have by falling for Trixie.

 

Even so, she couldn’t stop thinking about her.

 

Trixie was so far from Katya’s usual type that it was laughable - feminine, sweet, her childhood affinity for pink obviously still obvious. None of that seemed to matter though. Trixie’s smile, her infectious laugh, her to-die-for curves - it all amounted to a woman who had captured Katya’s attention faster than anyone had in her life.

 

She was in trouble.

 

The best Katya could do at that moment was put her sudden crush ( _are you a pathetic teenager, Zamolodchikova?_ ) down to the emotion of the move...and her sheer happiness at seeing Trixie again. Stepping out of the shower, she shoved it deep down in her mental ‘to deal with tomorrow’ pile.

 

Drying herself off, Katya slipped into a black t-shirt and black cotton underwear. Sleepily making one last round of the house to turn out the lights, she couldn’t help but feel a calm relief at the absolute silence around her.

 

Crawling into bed, it wasn’t long before her exhaustion overwhelmed her. As she drifted off to sleep, her last thoughts were of brown eyes and freckles dotted across a smiling face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for commenting, I love hearing what people think of this! Hopefully I can update a little more soon, I will be away for a few days but there will hopefully be an update by Wednesday! Enjoy!
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Yes, Stevie is loosely based on Stevie Nicks. I love the idea of Katya having this slightly batty hippie aunt that she was always in awe of.
> 
> Also, I have taken some liberties with their ages and the time period they grew up in here. Generally a 25 year old wouldn't have spent much time as a kid in the nineties, but I wanted a feel to it that I can relate to my own childhood/pre-teen times growing up at the end of that decade. Sue me :P


	3. Got it bad for that coffee-shop girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as Katya wants to hide in her new place, she desperately needs to find a place that serves good coffee. What a coincidence that Trixie works as a barista in town...
> 
> Or 'Two old friends sitting in a coffee-shop, relearning how to be around each other'.

__Got it bad for that coffeeshop girl  
Only girl in the world for me  
Got a thing for that coffeeshop girl  
Only girl in the world I want to see

 

 

Katya’s first few day spent as a resident of Bronte were mildly underwhelming. Between unpacking and an understandable (as far as she thought) fear of being press-ganged into small town southern country life, Katya mostly avoided leaving the house. If it hadn't been for her traitorous addiction to good coffee, she probably could have stayed there for another week. Alas - at ten AM on Friday, she found herself climbing into her car to face the thrilling trials and tribulations of everyday Bronte life. 

 

The drive to town took a good fifteen minutes from the house, and Katya relished the cool air blowing in from the air conditioning. The heat had been relentless since she’d arrived, and she knew it wasn’t going to get much better anytime soon. It had been hard to sleep in her room on the top floor with the measly air conditioning the house had - on more than one night she’d just given up and slept on the downstairs couch in front of the TV.

 

Trixie had been her only company since her arrival, albeit in the form of instant messaging. Katya was still coming to terms with having her friend only a Facebook message away after years of separation. It messed with her mind a little - what would her thirteen year old self have given to be able to talk to Trixie like this every day? 

 

Flicking her indicator on and turning into town, Katya tried to ignore the fluttering in her belly. Sure, there  _ were _ other places to get coffee in Bronte. She didn’t have to go to Charlotte’s. There was a lovely Italian restaurant further down the street that she was sure would have a great espresso machine. She could grab a coffee from the general stor on the corner.

Hell - she owned a _Nespresso_ machine. In all honestly, she didn't even need to leave the house to get a decent coffee. 

She didn’t even know if Trixie was working today. She could very well make this trip, get her fix of caffeine and run some errands without going anywhere near Trixie’s place of employment. 

 

But she wasn’t going to, was she?

 

Groaning inwardly at her lack of self control, Katya pulled into an empty park outside Charlotte’s. Turning the ignition off, she grabbed her cigarettes and phone. It was stupid, avoiding Trixie like this. The blonde woman was her closest thing to a friend in this god-forsaken town, and Katya was damned if she was going to mess that up because suddenly she couldn’t control her positively prepubescent emotions. 

 

Sliding her phone into her pocket, Katya made her way into the cafe. It was busy - probably what constituted as a lunch rush for a town this size. The decor was trendy - plants everywhere, wooden furniture, but slightly more homely than your run of the mill hipster coffee shop. Books covered a  whole wall at the back, a bunch of comfortable looking armchairs set up around tables nearby. The music was light - an indie sounding band and an acoustic guitar finishing off the whole ‘aesthetic’ she was sure the cafe was going for. 

 

Katya made her way to the counter as her eyes finally fell on a mass of blonde hair behind the espresso machine. Trixie was in her own world, humming to herself and staring into space as she steamed milk for the row of espresso shots she had lined up on the bench. Katya couldn’t help but smile to herself - even with a pen haphazardly tucked behind her ear and marshmallow powder on her denim apron, Trixie was a fucking vision. Her makeup was flawless (again), and her masses of hair were pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head.. 

 

An old man behind Katya cleared his throat pointedly, and she flushed as she realized she was holding up the queue. Moving towards the counter, she glanced up at the menu. She wasn't sure why, she always ordered the same thing anyway. 

 

“Hi,” she said to the leathery, red-headed woman at the counter. She got a wide smile in response and a drawled “What can I get ya, hun?”

 

Her name tag said ‘Irene’ and her raspy voice said ‘smokes a pack a day’. She was so far from the whole look that this cafe was trying to achieve that it was comical. Katya grinned, liking her already. 

 

“Can I get a large black coffee, no sugar, and a raspberry danish?” she asked, eyes drifting back to Trixie at the machine. The blonde finished pouring milk into a row of lattes and turned, finally making eye contact with Katya. Trixie squealed, wiping her hands on her apron and running around the counter to envelop Katya in a hug.

 

“Kat!” she cried out, the noise turning the heads of half the shop's patrons. Katya’s ears flushed, but she let herself be tugged against Trixie. She smelled like coffee, marshmallows and the flowery perfume Katya remembered from the other day. She hugged like she had on Sunday - like Katya was the only person she wanted to see in the world. Katya squeezed back, self-conscious of the eyes of the Bronte locals on them. Not self-conscious enough to pull away from Trixie, though.

 

“You finally made it into town, you hermit,” Trixie said, moving back and making her way back to the coffee machine to finish her orders. “I was starting to worry that you were taking a leaf out of Stevie’s book...become the local Halloween story to scare kids with.”

She shook her head at Irene as Katya went to pay, mumbling something to the older woman that apparently meant Katya was getting her coffee gratis. 

 

Katya raised her eyebrows. 

 

“If I had known I would be getting free coffee, you wouldn't have been able to keep me away,” she replied, stepping back from the till and taking the number Irene handed her. The older woman was looking at her with interest. 

 

Trixie grinned, pressing the button on the coffee grinder and waiting for the group head to fill. 

 

“See, there’s already benefits to knowing me.” she stated as she moved back to the machine. 

 

Katya rolled her eyes inwardly at that. There were definite benefits to knowing Trixie - the problem was that it wasn’t smart or even advisable for her to think about those benefits. 

 

“Sit down, I’ll bring your coffee over”, Trixie said with a smile as she grabbed a cup from the top of the machine. “I’m due a break soon anyway.” 

 

Katya nodded and searched for a seat, settling on one down the back by the books. She pulled her iPad out of her bag to give herself something to do while she waited for Trixie to join her. She scrolled through Facebook, ignoring the messages from her family and friends in New York who were - very predictably - "W orried About Her" . They were worried that she’d moved so far away, wanting to know if she was in an okay space after the breakup, wondering when she was admitting this move was a mistake and coming back to the city. 

 

Katya sighed, closing the app and opening an eBook instead. 

 

They had a right to worry, of course they did. Some of those people had seen her at the lowest of her lows, back when she used…decidedly  _ less _ healthy coping mechanisms for things that went wrong. Were hard drugs better or worse than selling all her shit and moving across the country? She wasn’t sure, but she would say this was a safer choice. No easy access to coke, no dingy clubs that she could drink herself into a stupor in. 

 

No ex girlfriends frequenting the same streets as her.

 

Katya was lost in her book when her coffee arrived, and she startled slightly as Trixie dropped into the seat opposite her. 

 

“This is my favorite table”, the other woman said with a smile, and Katya grinned as she placed her iPad back into the bag. Talking with Trixie had to be far more interesting than her book. 

 

“Well now it’s mine too,” Katya teased. “We’ll have to fight over it.” 

 

Trixie jokingly flexed a bicep, giving Katya a smile that made her insides flip. 

 

"Bring it on, Zamo."

 

_ Enough of that,  _ she scolded herself. 

 

Apparently the days apart had done absolutely nothing to curb her infatuation, which had the potential to become a massive problem. Especially now that Katya had realised Trixie was wearing a goddamn  _ denim overall dress _ , and had her long hair tied up in a black scrunchie. She was having sincere flashbacks to the days they used to hang out in this very town, using their pocket money at the corner store.

 

Trying her best to focus on her coffee, Katya took a sip. She closed her eyes as it burned its way pleasantly down her throat. 

 

“Damn that’s good,” she sighed as she took another sip. 

 

Trixie screwed up her nose. 

 

“I can’t stand black coffee.”

 

Katya pretended to cover her coffee cup, shielding it’s hypothetical ears from the slander coming from Trixie’s mouth. 

 

“He’ll  _ hear _ you,” she whispered, picking the cup up and shaking her head at Trixie.“You make coffee for a living, how can you hate it?”

 

The other girl shrugged.

 

“I don’t hate it, I just think it tastes like shit without sugar, creamer or syrups.” 

 

She gave Katya a wide smile, reaching up to pull her blonde curls free of the scrunchie. Katya had to stifle a groan at the sight of Trixie’s fucking fantastic hair loose around her shoulders. It was terrific. Katya thought it must reach down to the small of her back when brushed out. She had a crazy urge to reach out and run her fingers through it just to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

 

Thankfully she managed to squash that one - nothing said crazy like manhandling a girl’s hair out of nowhere. Finding her sanity and her voice, she went down a safer path.

 

“How long have you worked here?” she asked, sipping at her coffee and dragging her eyes back to Trixie’s face. Not that it helped, apparently there was no area of Trixie she wasn’t at least slightly obsessed with. 

 

“About three years,” Trixie replied, head resting against her hand. 

 

“I moved out of home and the gigs weren’t really cutting it when it came to rent and bills, so I applied here. It’s surprisingly fun.” 

 

She looked around the crowded cafe, a small smile on her face.

 

“It’s satisfying, making coffee. People are nice to you when you’re responsible for their caffeine addiction.” Trixie winked and nodded at Katya’s coffee. “I’ve got you now, you’ll be a regular in no time.”

 

Katya snorted and took a sip of her drink. 

 

“Even if I’m a gross black coffee drinker?”

 

Trixie pretended to think for a moment, then nodded. 

 

“Yeah, I’ll let it pass. Besides, I had you pegged for a hardcore caffeine fiend.” 

 

Katya sighed inwardly. Great, even subliminally she had an aura of addiction. 

 

“So you write, right?” Trixie asked, trailing off and making a face at how awkward the sentence sounded. “Jeez, obviously  _ I _ don’t write,” she said with a chuckle. Katya’s cheeks flushed at how adorable Trixie was without even trying. 

 

“Yeah,” she replied. “I started in Junior High, just after we stopped coming here. I did a degree in Literature, got into the creative writing program at NYU. I finished my Masters last year.” Trixie looked impressed, and Katya felt her skin heating up again at the attention. She shook her head a little. “I don’t have anything big published. Not yet. A few poems and short stories.”

 

Trixie smiled at her, head cocked to the side. 

 

“Your letters were always so much better than mine,” she said thoughtfully. “You write like you talk. You still do, actually. It makes your writing seem so real.” Katya didn’t know what to say to that. On one hand it was amazing that Trixie had paid that much attention. On the other hand… well, it was terrifying that Trixie had paid that much attention. 

 

“Stalker,” she joked, unsure what else to say in response.   
  


They sat and chatted for a few more minutes before Trixie had to go back to work. Katya’s danish arrived, and she was pleasantly surprised by how good it was. Trixie told her Irene did all the pastries, she was at least seventy-five and had been working there since the day the place opened. 

 

When Trixie’s break was over, she tied her hair back into a loose bun. Katya mourned the loss. 

 

Before she headed back, Trixie turned to Katya. 

 

“Hey, I don’t know how long you’re planning to be in town for today, but do you want to meet up after? You could come see my place and meet Vi and Elle.” Katya was slightly ashamed of the not-at-all genuine, questioning look she gave her friend - her Facebook stalking had led her to discover that Trixie had a roommate named Violet, who in turn had a daughter. Trixie didn’t need to know how creepy and nosy Katya had been on her social media.

 

Trixie explained: 

 

“Violet’s my friend from high school, she’s my roommate. Her daughter Elle is seven.” Katya raised her eyes at that, the idea that anyone their age had a seven year old was strange to her to say the least. 

 

Trixie seemed to understand what she was thinking. 

 

“Yeah, she had her just after school. It was a crazy time, but I’m sure we can talk about that at a more interesting time. And with alcohol handy.” She gave Katya a short smile that seemed to indicate it was a long story. “Anyway, do you want to meet me when I finish? It’s okay if you have something else to do…”

 

Katya suddenly felt a little bit bad about taking so long to come into town. Obsessed with her own awkward crush, she’d neglected to remember that it had been twelve long years for Trixie, too. Trixie obviously wanted to catch up, and here Katya was being her awkward, gay self.

 

Her heart was already beating a little faster at the very idea of spending more time with Trixie that day. Giving Trixie a wide smile, she nodded. 

“Yeah, that sounds great. I have a few things to do in town first - like, I literally have nothing in my kitchen to eat off or with - but text me when you’re done and I’ll come over. Send me the address now and I’ll get an idea of where I’m going.”

 

Taking her phone, Trixie put the address into maps and handed it back to Katya. Katya glanced at the screen - thankfully it wasn’t far away. 

 

“Rad”. she said, immediately regretting her choice of words when Trixie snorted.  _ What are you, a ninja turtle? _

 

Her break over, Trixie headed back to the machine with a wave. Katya turned her iPad back on. It was a good cover for being productive, but all she was really doing was watch Trixie work. She had articles to edit and a poem to finish, but she had a slight feeling that her muse was about to direct her in very different directions. Thank Christ - she needed to move out of her deathly depressing ‘ _ lesbian who was cheated on and almost spiraled back into addiction phase _ ’. 

 

And hey, maybe it was about time she had a ‘ _ lesbian falling for adorable friend who totally pulls off overall dresses and pink scrunchies _ ’ phase. 

 

She stayed in the coffee shop for about another hour, not really reading her book. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter, they'll most likely be a fair bit longer from now on. 
> 
> I can't wait to introduce Violet and Elle. I have PLANS. 
> 
> Also I caved and made a RPDR/Trixya fan blog, please follow over at https://kiwimattel.tumblr.com/


	4. I could be your crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katya spends some time at Trixie's house, with Trixie's roommate Violet making an appearance. Katya begins to feel a little more at home.

_You make it difficult to not overthink_   
_And when I'm with you I turn all shades of pink,_   
_I wanna touch you but don't wanna be weird_   
_It's such a rush, I'm thinking wish you were here._

_*_

 

 

Her keys held tightly between her teeth, Trixie hauled a pile of grocery bags through the front door of her house. She dropped the load of bags onto the kitchen counter, shaking out her arms to relieve the pain of plastic handles digging into her skin. 

“Vi?” she called out, placing her keys back her handbag and closing the door.

No reply - she hadn't really been expecting one at this time of the day. Violet would be finishing up at the salon, or on her way to get Elle from after-school care. 

Trixie went about unpacking her groceries, cleaning up a few plates and cups from the night before and stacking them in the dishwasher. She hummed as she cleaned, switching the TV on for background noise. 

She had lived with Violet for almost three years now. They met in ninth grade and slowly became best friends. By all outward appearances, Violet had been mean, unforgiving, and completely uninterested in making new friends. Trixie was grossly popular and a complete know-it-all (Violets words). They were the most unlikely friends, but from the first few weeks of high school they were almost always together. 

Thinking about it, Trixie realized Violet was her first real friend after Katya stopped coming to Bronte. She had friends at middle school, but no one understood her like Katya did. Violet, despite their differences, did. 

Maybe that was what drew Trixie to her. 

Violet made her laugh, put up with her rants, was there for her when Trixie needed her to be. And for Violet - Trixie was her rock. When, in their senior year, Violet got pregnant with Elle, their friendship transcended. The scrutiny of those around them only made them closer - Trixie the only support Violet really had when her family all but kicked her out of home. Eventually, after years of clashing with her own father over every little thing, Trixie moved in to help Violet with bills...and as an extra hand when life as a single mom to a self-assured, sassy kid became a little too much. 

As Elle had grown up, Trixie had been a big part of her life. Violet constantly bemoaned the fact that Trixie was sacrificing her own youth more than enough by being her friend, but it had never really bothered Trixie. Elle was a great kid, and now that she was at school the most Trixie had to do was babysit on occasion to give Violet a break. Elle was like her own family - Violet too. They had somehow, over the years, forged out their own strange little family unit - Trixie appointing herself as something akin to a weird live-in Aunt. It worked for them. 

Most of their other friends had moved on - off to college in the city or into the small town married-with-two-point-five-kids dream. 

Trixie… well, she’d almost gone to college a couple of years ago. Her friend Kim was studying in Nashville, and Trixie had made it as far as filling in the enrollment forms before throwing it all in the trash. Something about the idea of leaving to start again in a new, strange city, absolutely terrified her. 

Violet told her she had anxiety.

Trixie wasn’t sure - she didn’t mind talking to new people, having cheerful conversations with the cafe patrons and her students every day. It was just… being somewhere completely new with no one familiar within a hundred miles made her feel sick to her stomach. It was ridiculous. She could perform songs in front of a hall of people, but she couldn’t bring herself to even get on a plane and visit her friends at college. She may not love everything about this town - on fact there were some seriously problematic attitudes around here that she couldn’t stand, but it was home. It was safe.

Heading into her bedroom, Trixie put away her haul of products she’d picked up from the store. Shampoo, conditioner, strawberry-scented body wash. Violet said she was a child (the soap was literally a child’s brand), but it was Trixie’s favourite. She undressed slowly and hopped in the shower, tossing her work clothes in her washing basket on the way past. The scent of coffee always seemed to cling to her after a shift at the cafe. She absentmindedly wondered if Katya would like that, then shook her head. 

What a weird thought to have. 

Taking her time in the shower, Trixie decided against washing her hair. It took too long to dry, and she had the next day off to do it. The shower filled with the scent of strawberries as she lathered herself up with her pink loofah. 

Feeling much cleaner and much less like someone had rolled her in coffee grinds, she hopped out and wrapped herself in a large white towel. She was lucky to have her own bathroom - the house had a larger one down the hall for Violet and Elle

.

She was padding back to her room when the doorbell rang. Shit, was that Katya already? Trixie had let her friend know when she finished work and thought she’d have more time to shower and clean herself up, but it seemed Katya remembered this town better than Trixie had expected. She pulled her towel tight around her chest and headed to the door to let her friend in. 

“Hey!” she said, hiding half behind the door as she ushered Katya in. Katya gave her an odd look, eyes on the towel Trixie was clutching to herself. Mouth splitting into a grin, she gave Trixie a wink.

Katya raised her eyebrows. “Wow, Trix, you know how to welcome a girl.” Trixie rolled her eyes. 

“Keep it in your pants, Zamolodchikova.” She threw Katya a wink. “I’m going to change. Feel free to put the TV on, remote’s on the table.”

Trixie changed quickly, putting her hair in a messy bun and throwing on a short, flowing white dress. She basically lived in shorts and loose dresses this time of year - the heat in Tennessee was nothing to scoff at. Catching sight of her reflection, she tugged at some loose strands of hair. If she were smart, she’d cut it, keep it off her neck for the summer. She’d never been able to bring herself to, though. She was truly and completely here for the Totally Hair Barbie/young Dolly fantasy she tried to kid herself she had going here. 

Heading back into the living room, she slumped onto the couch next to Katya. Her friend had somehow managed to find some sepia-toned film that had to be at least fifty years old, and was staring at the screen with an odd look on her face. 

“This shit reminds me of being here. Not here, I mean, like at Stevie’s place.” Katya huffed a laugh. “My place, now, I guess.” 

Trixie puller her legs up on the couch, facing her friend.

“Did you miss it here?” 

Katya met her eyes. “I must have, I guess. I mean - I didn’t miss the heat, or the fact there’s shit all to do here when you’re ten years old.” - Trixie rolled her eyes . As if Katya hadn’t given her enough shit about that when they were ten themselves. 

Katya smirked. Shrugging her shoulders, she leaned back on the couch and gave Trixie a soft smile. 

“Yeah, I missed it. I missed that we were always happy here.” 

Trixie threw her a grin, a teasing look in her eyes. 

“And you missed  _ me _ ,” she prompted, poking Katya gently with her toe. 

Katya rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I have to admit, everything was a lot quieter without you bugging me every summer. 

Trixie threw a pillow and missed. 

*

They hung out on the couch for the better part of the sweltering afternoon. Katya was glad for the air conditioning - she didn’t want to admit it to Trixie, but she was finding the heat harder and harder to handle. 

She didn’t know how, but Trixie always seemed to look like the heat didn’t touch her. Her skin was perfectly tanned, her white cotton dress sitting comfortably over her curves… as opposed to the way all of Katya’s clothes always seemed to be sticking to her lately. Katya found that it was a struggle to keep her attention on the TV as they sat on the couch, her eyes trying their very best to wander to Trixie’s impressive cleavage and the low neckline of her dress. 

They were still there ten minutes or or so later when the front door flew open and a whirlwind of footsteps and voices made its way into the small house. 

“Elle, can you at  _ least _ wait until we’re inside the house before dropping your crap all over the floor?”

  
“Mom can I have a Popsicle?”

“Pick up your bag and put it on the hook and I’ll think about it. Lord give me _strength_.” 

Trixie grinned at Katya, her attention turning from the TV and towards the kitchen.

“Vi? Elle?” she called out. “Come here, I need you to meet someone.” 

A small, brunette, extremely fast ball of energy raced into the room and threw itself at Trixie before Katya could even blink. The young girl gave Trixie a big hug before realizing Katya was also on the couch. She stepped back from the hug, a shy look suddenly on her face. She was small for a seven year old, Katya thought. Then again, she didn’t really know what a seven year-old should look like - her only experience with kids was loading her cousin’s children up on too much sugar at family events. 

“Elle, this is my very good friend Katya.” Trixie said, ruffling the girl’s messy dark braids as she gave Katya a smile. “Katya, this is Elle. She's seven and she exists wholly on a diet of Popsicles and macaroni.”

“Hey!” - a woman Katya assumed was Violet shouted from the kitchen. “Don’t you tell me how to raise my kid.” 

Trixie laughed and sat up on her knees on the couch. 

“Vi, come meet Katya.” she called. 

Violet was, to be frank, like no one Katya had ever seen within the confines of Bronte. Tall, slim and with a figure to die for, Violet was immaculately dressed in an expensive looking black dress that would have looked at home on Madison Avenue. She wore her long dark hair in a high ponytail, and Katya was sure someone could cut themselves quite spectacularly on the sharp lines of her cheekbones. 

Katya stood and shook Violet’s hand, surprised when her hands were much softer than they looked. Violet’s perfume was intoxicating, the scent adding to a slightly intimidating demeanor. She was intriguing. 

“Hi, Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova.” Katya said with a wide smile. “Nice to meet you.” 

Violet raised an eyebrow at Katya’s name, but she smiled back. Her dark eyes took Katya in as they shook hands. 

“Violet Chachki. It’s good to meet you finally. Trixie hasn’t shut up about you for months.” 

Trixie squealed from the couch. 

“Vi! Way to make me sound me sound crazy.”

Violet smiled, letting go of Katya’s hand and heading back to the kitchen. Katya returned to the couch, giving Trixie a teasing smile as Violet unpacked bags in the kitchen. 

“Aww, you missed me.”

Elle had already kicked her shoes off and was on her stomach in front of the TV, her earlier need for a Popsicle apparently forgotten as she watched the screen. Katya noticed that they were now, somehow, watching _Moana_. Trixie rolled her eyes and nudged Katya with her toe.

“Welcome to living with a seven-year-old. Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

Katya followed Trixie down the hall, nodding as she pointed out the different rooms. Elle’s bedroom was a positively insane clash of colors - DC Superhero Girls posters all over the walls, a bed covered in soft toys and a wall covered in trophies Trixie explained were for gymnastics. “She’s actually really good,” Trixie said. “She’s been winning competitions, wants to join a team… Violet has no idea where she got her stubbornness from.” Trixie rolled her eyes and smiled. 

Katya thought it was sweet how much Trixie obviously loved Elle. Violet too - it made sense that they would be close after years of living together, but it was obvious to Katya that this friendship was something special. She had to admit - it made her feel a little jealous, and that in turn made her feel like an utter bitch. She didn’t know what Violet and Trixie had been through together. She didn’t know the full story of the circumstances that had them here in this house together. She couldn’t help mourn, though. Mourn for the state of her own friendship with Trixie and what it could have been like if she never stopped coming back to Bronte. 

Shaking off those depressing thoughts, she followed Trixie as they reached her room. Katya couldn’t help but laugh at her friend as she looked around. It was so  _ Trixie _ . Guitar stands in one corner holding an acoustic guitar and a pale pink Fender, a framed (and signed) picture of Dolly Parton on the mostly bare walls. Unopened Barbie doll boxes on full display on her shelves - Katya counted at least fifteen. Katya knew that Trixie collected the dolls, she’d started when they were about twelve. By the looks of things, she had never stopped. Katya made her way over to the boxes, chucking at the variety. Audrey Hepburn Barbie, Scarlett O’Hara, right next to Icelandic Barbie and what looked like Katniss from  _ The Hunger Games.  _ Katya picked one box up carefully, reading it with a grin:  _ Mila™ Barbie® doll.  _

“Fashion never takes a holiday in Russia,” Katya read aloud, putting on a heavy accent. “This one’s my favourite.”

“You do  _ not _ want to know what I paid for that,” Trixie said, shaking her head with a smile. “Hence why it’s on a high shelf. Elle’s more careful now though, she knows which ones she can touch and which ones to leave the fuck alone.”

Katya snorted. “I feel like there’s a story there.”

“Don’t ask.”

Katya placed the doll carefully back on the shelf. “How many do you have now?”

“Almost a hundred”, Trixie said with a shrug. “The rest are in storage at Mom and Dad’s.”

A sudden voice in the doorway interjected. “Apart from the ones Elle spontaneously unboxed when she was five”. Violet came into the room and flopped onto the bed, grinning up at Trixie. “You’re never letting me forget that one, are you?”

“I love you, Violet, but you know I will hold that grudge till the day I die,” Trixie deadpanned, face serious.

The three of them spent a good few minutes just chatting, leaving Trixie’s room when Elle announced she was dying of starvation and heading back to the living room. Trixie managed to persuade Katya into staying for dinner, and Katya was surprised to learn she was a vegetarian. 

“It tends to work out pretty well”, Violet explained as Trixie made a salad. “I only eat chicken and fish anyway, that's how I keep looking this good”. She winked at Katya again, that slightly predatory smile making another appearance. “And as Trix explained to you earlier, Elle currently exists on food groups that fall into the ‘beige’ category.” 

Elle grinned up at Katya from her bowl of mac and cheese. “I actually like carrots now. But only if they're not cooked. And if they're  cut into sticks.” Katya laughed. 

“Funnily enough, as the sole vegetarian in this household, I do more cooking and eating than anyone else. Which you can probably tell.” Trixie gestured to her body, placing her hands on her curvy hips. 

“Oh shut the fu.. fudge up”, Violet said with a glance at Elle. “Katya, you're a lesbian. Tell Trixie she has an amazing body. Maybe she'll listen to you.” 

Katya felt her cheeks redden, but she looked Trixie up and down. As if she hadn't been constantly trying not to stare at Trixie’s breathtaking body from the moment she arrived in town. 

“She's right, Trix. You have a really nice body. I'd totally hit that.” 

Trixie screeched, jokingly covering Elle's ears. 

They ate together - Trixie threw together a roast vegetable salad that was surprisingly good. She even threw in some tasty pan fried chicken for Katya and Violet. “Damn Mattel, you turned into a real little housewife”, Katya teased. Violet told her how Trixie's food had basically kept her sane when Elle was little, weekly deliveries of meals getting her through the unpredictable days. Katya remembered Trixie talking her into baking as a kid - Katya loved eating the food but lacked the patience it took to measure the ingredients and wait for the food to cook. Trixie had been cooking since she was small, making sure her family still ate well despite not having much money. 

Katya was a few years into her teens when she clued into the fact that Trixie’s family was reasonably poor. Little things started to make sense - how they always hung out in town or at Stevie’s, how Trixie was always much more careful with her pocket money, how their tiny house seemed slightly empty, yet not quite big enough for Trixie and her little brother Jake. Katya had grown up well-off, she would admit that. Her mom never had much growing up, but her dad had made some pretty decent investments in his younger years. Back when he was a respected investment banker, not a useless, drug-fucked disappointment.

 

At least she knew where she got that from.

Katya finished her salad, placing her fork down and coming back into the conversation as Trixie’s teasing voice cut through the room.

 

“You know Vi, I think you're just glad you're not the only gay in the village anymore” Trixie said, voice light, tone pointed as she looked at her roommate. Violet threw a cherry tomato at her, Trixie skillfully dodging it and thankfully missing the surprised look on Katya’s face. 

“Oh, you’re gay?” she asked Violet, slight confusion on her face. 

Violet gave her a smile, shrugging. 

“I’m bi. Guess that explains her”, Violet nodded towards Elle’s room. “Add that to the teen pregnancy gig, and it’s no wonder my parents don’t talk to me.” 

She took another sip of her drink. “I’ve never really been in a relationship with a woman, though. It’s slim pickings around here.” She winked at Katya, who hated the fact that she felt a sudden tightening in her chest. Damn it all, what was it with these Bronte women? While Violet was no Trixie, she was hot as hell and super confident, a combination that was sending Katya’s newly-awakened sex drive into overdrive.

Luckily Violet changed the subject. 

“Hey Trix, did you ever tell her about that time you got kicked out of Sunday School?” 

Katya spluttered on her drink, a loud laugh escaping her. “What?! Oh my god, please tell me.”

Trixie’s face flushed red as she snorted into her drink. “Oh my god”, she said, shaking her head. “I didn't exactly get kicked out…”

“Please”, Katya said again, eyes wide.

“Okay, so our Sunday School teacher, back when my whole family went to church every Sunday, got onto a rant about the sanctity of marriage and how it was only between a man and a woman, you know, blah blah blah.” 

Katya rolled her eyes and nodded. 

“So she’s up there spewing hate, and unfortunately for her little thirteen-year-old social justice warrior Beatrix Mattel had just received a certain letter from her friend in Boston.” She gave Katya a pointed look. Katya bit her lip on a smile. She knew what letter Trixie was talking about. The first time she’d ever told anyone she might be gay.

“So… I go off at her, call her a bigoted old cow” - 

-“You told her she was just jealous no one wanted to marry her” Violet interjected, shutting her mouth at a glare from Trixie.

-”And said I was never coming back to her stupid backwards class.” Trixie finished, face still red. “I never did, actually, Dad was so mad.” she gave Katya a sheepish grin.

Katya smiled back, slightly stunned. She didn’t know what to feel - she was so so happy that Trixie had stood up for her like that at such a young age. She was proud. She would have given everything to have a friend like Trixie when she was the only out gay kid at her high school, facing casual outbursts of “Dyke” and “faggy bitch” almost every day. A lump rose in her chest, threatening to spill out. 

“I can’t believe you did that for me,” she said softly. 

“Our Trix is a honey badger,” Violet said, teasingly reaching out to ruffle Trixie’s hair. “Feisty, fierce and the protector of the downtrodden. That’s how she ended up with me, and our friend Kim. No one wanted to talk to the weird scene kid and the bitchy bisexual.”

Trixie rolled her eyes “Because all you guys did all day was sit listening to weird music and telling people to fuck off”.

Violet grinned, showing her teeth. “We were _edgy_.”

Trixie laughed, shaking her head. “You were always lucky you were hot, Vi.”

Katya laughed, her heart suddenly feeling so full. Maybe moving hundreds of miles away from home wouldn’t be so bad. Not if she had friends like this. Not if she could carve herself a little family like this. Not if she had Trixie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - so much has been going on lately that I've barely had time to write! Between work and personal things, I feel like my head is going to explode. Hopefully things will calm down soon though. Thanks for all your lovely comments and kudos :D I love you all.


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